


No Love Like Your Love

by valkyriefowl



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-28 11:29:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19811371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valkyriefowl/pseuds/valkyriefowl
Summary: Crowley can't sleep. Not with the Apocalypse only hours behind them.





	No Love Like Your Love

Ethereal and once-ethereal beings didn’t need sleep the way humans did. Didn’t crave it. But saving the world brought with it a bone deep exhaustion. And so, after the Oxford bus had taken several wrong turns, two exhausted beings made their weary way into Crowley’s flat and into the soft bed. Aziraphale barely used the bed above his bookstore, but Crowley liked his sleep. And so they found themselves lying there, side by side.

The muffled night-time noises from the world outside were barely audible inside Crowley’s bedroom. The room had been designed (and threatened) to be as comfortable and sheltered as possible. The lights from the streets outside were barely visible through the heavy curtains. The air inside was soft and warm.  
He felt as though his heart were racing out of his chest.

Aziraphale was sleeping perfectly angelically, hands neatly folded on his chest over a soft nightshirt. For someone who never slept, he really was quite good at it. Crowley mimicked him, but his limbs were stiff and tight. He felt like his breathing was too loud and too quiet all at once. The prickle of his own skin on his bare chest was suffocating. In the absence of everything, the absence of Heaven and Hell and the End of The World, of noise and bustle, in the quiet of the bedroom, Crowley felt as through everything inside of him was rushing out at once.

He turned over onto his side, facing Aziraphale. Breathed.

He lay there for a few moments. The darkness of the room softened his vision, made the colours duller, but he could see Aziraphale’s profile just fine in the gloom. His eyes worked far better than any humans could in the dark. He could see the curls in his hair, the softness of his lips, the line of his nose.

Aziraphale smiled gently, eyes still closed. Feeling Crowley’s eyes studying him. Small mercy, that he couldn’t also feel everything churning inside of Crowley, threatening to explode.

“Crowley?”

He didn’t reply. Just lay there, still, hoping that everything inside of him didn’t come pouring out.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale said again, brow creasing in a frown that Crowley hardly saw through blurry vision, “is everything alright?”

Crowley took a small, shaky breath. Aziraphale opened his eyes, blind in the dark of the room, and sat up, reaching for the lamp beside the bed.

“No!” Crowley gasped, and Aziraphale froze. Then, slowly, he tilted to face Crowley. His hand hovered above the quilt.

“Is it ok if I…” he whispered. Crowley nodded with a hitched breath, but Aziraphale’s unseeing eyes scattered over him.

“Yes,” he whispered, and Aziraphale shuffled closer to him. The warmth of his body bled through the sheets, and Crowley barely resisted moving closer to it. It would be too much, a voice in the back of his head said. You need to stop taking from him.

He reached out, and gently touched Crowley’s cheek. It was a tiny point of contact, but the shock of warmth it sent down Crowley’s spine made him gasp, and a tear rolled down his cheek. Aziraphale moved his hand to hold Crowley’s cheek and jaw and made a noise in the back of his throat like a wounded animal at the sensation of the wet.

“Oh, Crowley,” he murmured, and Crowley’s hand reached up to cover his. Aziraphale moved closer and reached up with his other hand to cradle his face. Crowley could feel the warmth that he exuded sinking into his skin, drawing the anxiety and adrenaline out of his aching and tired body. He sagged into it, gasping as more tears fell down his face.

Then, he did something they’d never done. Not in six thousand years. Crowley reached out to Aziraphale and pulled him close.

Aziraphale exhaled in surprise, before wrapping his arms tightly around Crowley, burying his face in his hair. Crowley, trembling, held on like he was drowning. And it felt like he was, all the pain from the day finally seeping up to the surface. Aziraphale petted down his back.

“I thought you had gone,” he whispered, and Aziraphale breathed in tightly.

“You almost died, left me for a second time, and I don’t know how…“ he said, breathing harder and harder until the words died in his throat. Aziraphale squeezed him even tighter in his arms and pulled Crowley closer. Their legs tangled together.

“I could never leave you,” Aziraphale whispered, running shaky fingers through Crowley’s hair.

Crowley tried gathering his breath and pulled his head back to look at the angel.

“I… I,” he tried, and Aziraphale smiled. Even in the dark he glowed.

“I know, my dear,” he said, and leaned down to kiss Crowley.

The soft press of his lips finally broke down the wall inside of him, and Crowley gasped. His arms squeezed tighter, pressing their bodies together. His warmth was even stronger now and it burned through Crowley’s skin and into his chest. Aziraphale held on tight, gently rolling Crowley over until he was suspended over his head, resting on his elbows. Crowley groaned into his mouth, bringing his hands up into Aziraphale’s hair. The weight pressed him into the soft sheets, reminding him that he was here, he was still alive, they were fine. Together.

Aziraphale bit down gently onto his bottom lip and Crowley’s brain short-circuited. He scrambled into the kiss, electric shocks flying into his brain every time their tongues touched. He’d never imagined it could’ve felt this good, kissing an angel.

Aziraphale moved from his lips now, continuing the kisses down his jawline to his ear, biting down on the junction of his jaw. Crowley’s eyes snapped open as he cried out, one hand fisted so tight in Aziraphale’s hair it pulled as his body jerked from the sensation. Aziraphale groaned and huffed a laugh into Crowley’s neck. Gave him another kiss, feeling the muscle clench under his skin.

He took a breath against the soft skin of Crowley’s jaw and sat up. The sudden absence of warmth made Crowley sit up with him, chasing the sensation. Aziraphale laughed softly and wound one arm back around Crowley’s torso. The other hand rested on his hip, fingers gently stroking his skin. Crowley held on to his nightshirt’s collar, grateful for something to hold. They sat there, curled up in each other’s embrace, breathing in tandem.

“I would have done it,” Aziraphale said, so quietly that Crowley almost didn’t hear him. “I would’ve run away with you, if I hadn’t been so afraid.” He sighed and rested his head on Crowley’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, my love,” and those words sent a dagger into Crowley’s heart, “I’m sorry for not being brave enough for you.”

“No,” Crowley whispered, fingers tightening in the fabric, “you’re so brave already. If you hadn’t been good enough to say no, who would have gone to the airbase? What would have happened then? I think… I think this was how it was destined to go.”

Aziraphale didn’t say anything for a few moments, stroking Crowley’s soft skin.

“If it could lead me back to here, with you, I’d do it again,” he whispered into Crowley’s neck. “All of it. All these years have been worth it, just to be by your side.”

There was a little gap in Crowley’s soul that hadn’t been filled for over 6000 years. He knew, had known the second the gap had been created, that it could never be filled again. To be Fallen was to lose the bit of God and Her love that made the angels that much sweeter than he could ever be. It was a constant ache in his soul, the little gap, and Crowley was used to it. But in this quiet moment with Aziraphale, held tight and strong in his arms, Crowley couldn’t feel it.

They sat there, together at last. Then, taking a shallow breath, Crowley leant back onto the sheets, out of Aziraphale’s arms, and reached over to turn on the bedside lamp.

The light dazzled both of them, and Crowley hissed as he covered his eyes. Aziraphale turned his face away but kept the soft fingers on his hip. Slowly, gently, their eyes adjusted to the soft yellow light, and Crowley removed the hand from over his eyes, laying them on the pillow above his head.

And wished he’d never turned on the light.

Aziraphale was looking at him now, looking at him like he couldn’t before, in the dark. Could see the pale face, teary cheeks, the heave of his bare chest, and the golden slits of his eyes. There was nothing Crowley wished for more than his glasses, to give him some coverage from Aziraphale’s all-consuming eyes.

Aziraphale ran his fingers down Crowley’s chest, from his collarbone to his navel, and all thought went out the window. He felt so vulnerable, arms raised far from Aziraphale’s gentle touch, but pleasure coiled lazily through his veins. He moved his hands, taking the other from his hip, and placed them so gently on his cheeks that he could hardly feel them. And once more Aziraphale ran them slowly down his face, neck, collar bones, stomach. A single finger dipped below his navel.

He’d never been touched like this before. Reverently.

“Beautiful,” Aziraphale whispered, and Crowley hissed. The word coiled in his gut, sparking angrily in his throat. Demons were not supposed to be beautiful.

“Crowley, oh Crowley,” Aziraphale said, and leaned down to kiss him once more.

The sensation of Aziraphale’s body pressing him into the sheets warmed Crowley to his core. He arched his back up into the embrace, pressing them together. He wrapped his legs around Aziraphale’s waist as he nipped into his gasping mouth.

In a wave of holiness, a deep burst of peace that Crowley felt in his soul, Aziraphale’s wings spread out above them. His eyes shot open, and the light from the lamp bled into the pristine feathers. They cast a golden light for a single moment, before coming down to envelope them. Aziraphale smiled into the kiss.

He moved down from his lips, peppering kisses along his cheek and jaw. Crowley bit back a moan once Aziraphale ghosted over his collarbone, which made him pull back. He whined in protest, trying to pull the angel back with the hand fisted in his hair, but Aziraphale chuckled.

“You sound so lovely,” he murmured, and Crowley could feel every syllable ghosting across his skin. “Don’t try and hide. I want to hear you.” Crowley groaned, and Aziraphale’s fingers tightened around his ribs.

“That’s it. Wonderful.” He leant back down to press wet kisses to Crowley’s shoulder. “Beautiful.”

Wings drawing in tighter around them, he slid his hands slowly up Crowley’s body, grabbing hold of his wrists where they lay by his head, and pulled them up above Crowley’s head.

He felt so exposed, lying underneath Aziraphale all stretched out and sinful. It was being seen in the way he had been most afraid of. What had stopped him from telling Aziraphale the truth for so many years. But being seen? If being seen meant he was allowed this warmth, this hot flush down his body as Aziraphale smirked up and him from his stomach, this cocoon of protection in Aziraphale’s wings, then he would lay himself bare again and again for Aziraphale to see into the truth of his soul.

Aziraphale lifted his head and looked into Crowley’s eyes. The golden warmth from the lamp, from his own holy glow, made the dark bedroom their own little world. Crowley felt loved, in his bones and in his heart, and it was the most magical feeling in the world.

“My dear, I do love you so,” Aziraphale whispered, and Crowley’s soul felt complete.


End file.
